


Luck

by iliveatlast



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, From Beyond the Grave, Grief/Mourning, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent-Child Relationship, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveatlast/pseuds/iliveatlast
Summary: It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, so it's not like it even counts. Peter's been stabbed by muggers and had shields thrown at him by Captain America, gotten clobbered by Thanos and snapped out of existence - it takes a lot to hurt him.With Tony and May gone, Peter has to figure out whether he'll ever have a family again. If he needs one, or even deserves one. Pepper Potts has something to say about that.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Luck

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, so it's not like it even counts. Peter's been stabbed by muggers and had shields thrown at him by Captain America, gotten clobbered by Thanos and snapped out of existence - it takes a lot to hurt him. 

The week he spent at the displaced children's home doesn't hurt either. Mostly because he's numb. Mr. Stark is gone. May is gone. ("But she's coming back, right?" Peter had asked, over and over, to anyone who would listen. "If she Blipped she'll be back, like me, she'll be fine, she'll -" Which is how he figures out it doesn't count as blipping if the person got hit by a truck whose driver had disappeared into dust. Some of Thanos' victims don't get to come back.) Intellectually he knows it should hurt - knows it's going to, when he starts feeling things again. It's one of the reasons he's in the DCH in the first place - Ned's mom had offered to let him sleep at theirs, on Ned's sister's trundle bed, Sam Wilson of all people offered to find him a room wherever the rest of the Avenger's are evacuating to now that the compound is a burned out hole in the ground. But if Peter goes with them, with people he knows, if he stops moving, sits down and has to feel everything, it'll hurt. Peter knows that. So he shakes his head and says no and follows his caseworker to the DCH that's set up in a high school gym in the Bronx. Rows of cots and awkward, shell shocked teenagers, three shitty meals a day that barely keep Peter from starving and the sound, at night, of kids tossing and turning, the squeak of springs and crying. 

Peter doesn't cry. He doesn't feel anything. It doesn't hurt. None of it. 

"Lucky you," his caseworker says, four days into his stay at DCH. She's got a manilla folder and bags under her eyes so deep they almost look like bruises. "We found your next of kin." 

Peter doesn't have any kin. He doesn't have anyone. They're all gone. 

"Um - Max Reilly?" 

Peter blinks. "That's - um, you mean May's dad?" Peter says, a little unsurely. He remember Max vaguely - a couple outings when he was a kid, a trip to the zoo with May and Ben and Max, a weird dinner out at an Italian place where Max had snapped at him for not using a napkin. He hadn't seen him since Ben's funeral. He'd asked May about it, once, about where Max had gone, and she'd just brushed a hand over his head. " _Sometimes you have to choose your family,"_ she'd say, and plop a kiss on his forehead, the wettest and loudest she could so that Peter would squirm and fake gag and frantically swipe his sleeve over it. 

"Yeah. Lucky. He's down in Brooklyn - won't even have to leave the city."

Yeah. That's Peter. He's lucky, all right.  
  
Moving out of Queens at all feels like moving to a different world. Max doesn't look too different - older, for sure, but Peter's not sure if that's because he hasn't seen Max since he was like thirteen or because the five years Peter's been gone have changed him. He's in his seventies, Peter guesses - May's parents had got married young, he remembered, had May quick. Max doesn't say much when he picks Peter up - he signs the papers, he takes the vouchers the city gave for new clothes and necessities. (Peter's got his suit hidden in his backpack, under the Avenger med-bay scrubs and his old StarkPhone and the travel toothpaste the DCH had given him, but the stuff in the backpack is all he's got to his name.)

"I'll be honest with you," Max says as he and Peter step onto the B train to make their long trip back to Brooklyn. Max isn't looking at him, is looking out the train window, even though there's nothing to see there but the darkness of the tunnel. "I never thought May should have kept you, after Ben."

It doesn't hurt. It's just words, words from some old man who doesn't know him, who May hadn't talked to in years. It doesn't hurt. He's Spider-man. It takes a lot to hurt him. 

"She was young. Had her whole life ahead of her. You weren't her responsibility." Max clears his throat and looks at Peter. "Any other situation, I wouldn't take you. But this - " Max waves one hand. Peter's not sure what he's meant to be looking at, what Max is waving at. But he knows what he means. This. The Blip. The gymnasium full of kids and caseworkers trying to figure out anywhere to put them. A national emergency. An _international_ emergency. 

"We all gotta do what we can so hell, I'll do it," Max continues. "But you're old enough to take care of yourself. You follow my rules, you stay outta my way, in two years you get out and we won't have to deal with each other again. I think that's more than fair. Right?"  
  
It doesn't hurt. It doesn't. Max isn't his dad. Max isn't Ben. (Max isn't Mr. Stark.) It's not like he wants to be Peter's new dad or anything. And Peter doesn't want that either. Anyone who tries to be Peter's dad ends up dead, so. Yeah. Whatever. Two years. That's more than enough to ask for. That's more than Peter deserves. 

"Fair," Peter says. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

It's weird coming back to a world you've left for years, even if it only feels like minutes. Everything is different, even the stuff that should be the same. 

Midtown lets him back in - they make them all start the whole school year over, even though Peter did midterms two weeks ago. (Two weeks and five years ago.) His commute is an extra forty-five minutes from Max's apartment in Crown Heights, which means Peter spends a lot of time staring out train windows, headphones in. It's weird, sitting in crowded classrooms with kids simultaneously younger and older than him, sitting through chem labs and Spanish quizzes he'd already finished. It means there's not a lot to keep him busy, not a lot to settle his mind. A kid named Adisa Abara is the new academic decathlon captain and he glares like hell whenever MJ does a better job than him. Ned and MJ getting blipped is maybe the best thing that's happened to Peter, which makes him feel guilty. But at least he has people. A few people. He's lucky. 

(Lucky. So lucky.) 

Peter's room used to be Max's office. It still has Max's desk and bookshelves and Max begrudgingly moved the couch from the living room in there so Peter can sleep on it, which makes the whole room feel cramped. Peter doesn't care. It's not like he really has much stuff anymore, anyway. And the couch isn't that uncomfortable. "You're young, your back can take it," Max says. "Sides, not like there's any other option. Didn't get a voucher for a bed from the do-gooders, so. You don't like it, you can sort something else out."

Mr. Stark probably would have helped Peter sort something else out. But that thought _hurts_ , that thought is barbed and sharp toothed and stings, and so Peter doesn't let himself think it again.

Peter sneaks out every night, scales the fire escape and swings out and away, the chaos of a city suddenly doubled in size and chock full of trauma meaning that he's got plenty of work to do. Sometimes he'll stick close to the apartment, swing around Brooklyn, but it feels more right to head over to Bushwick, cross into Ridgewood, and do his best work in Queens. Max gave him a curfew but so long as Peter's in the apartment by six, Max doesn't check in on him again. They don't eat meals together or anything. Peter has chores, normal stuff like taking stuff to the trash room, doing dishes. But other than pointing out shit Peter hasn't done yet, the only thing Max will talk to him about is food. (Peter eats too much of it, something Peter tries to curtail with little success, something that makes Max frown and furrow his brow at when he sees how fast leftovers go.) 

It doesn't hurt. In some ways, it's great. He doesn't need someone trying to look after him. He's Spider-man. He looks after himself. But it's hard to be around Max - hard to look at Max and sometimes see a flash of May hiding in him, the curve of his chin, his eyes behind glasses. It's hard for Peter to pretend he doesn't exist, which seems to be Max's preferred way of having him, and that means Peter doesn't know how to act, which makes it even harder to be in the apartment. The air gets tense and full when it's just Max and Peter, his spidey sense tingling and shivering up and down his back with awkwardness. Peter doesn't know how to act and Max normally just acts like Peter's not there. So that's what Peter does too, eventually - he just pretends he doesn't exist, talks to Karen inside his mask or texts with Ned and MJ, stays late at the library or decathlon, leaves for patrol earlier and earlier every night.

Peter doesn't think how much easier it would be if he had another place to go, somewhere that wasn't school or swooping around the streets. If he were able to escape to Stark Industries, hide out in the lab, in his real-fake internship, working with web shooters and suits, eating pizza as his fingers flick around on screens and tinker with tech. That thought hurts too, that one draws blood, so Peter doesn't think of it. He won't. 

Which is why, when he comes back to Max's one day and Pepper Potts is standing on the front stoop to the building, Peter's not sure what he's meant to think, how he's meant to act.

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't. He's Spider-man. 

It'd take a lot more to hurt him. 

* * *

"Ms. Potts, uh - uh, hi," Peter says. It makes him instantly cringe - he can't remember, suddenly, if that's her name anymore. Her and Mr. Stark were gonna get married. Did they get married? There was a kid, he knew, the girl he'd seen at the funeral - Morgan. Was he meant to call her Mrs. Stark? Has he fucked this all up already? 

"Please," she says, smiling softly. "Call me Pepper."  
  
Which doesn't answer his question, but at least solves the problem for now. He can Google it later. He resolves just to not call her anything. That's probably safest.

"Hi," Peter says again, avoiding using any name. He's still wearing his backpack - came straight from school, from another lackluster decathlon practice. His fingers twist in the straps of his backpack, like he's bracing himself for something. And he is. He just doesn't know what.

"Do you - um - want to come in?" Peter asks, and immediately feels stupid. Of course she wants to come in. Why would she want to wait out here near the garbage cans and dog shit? 

"That'd be great," Pepper says, and Peter fumbles and drops his keys twice before he gets the building door open and leads her up two flights to Max's apartment. 

Peter's at a loss - he remembers May, offering drinks and snacks, pointing out the restroom. Peter doesn't know where Max keeps stuff like that, and he can't talk to Pepper Potts/Stark/Whoever about the bathroom. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room/kitchen as Pepper looks around the apartment. 

"Do you want - uh - tea or anything?" Peter can make tea, probably. It's just boiling water, right? Pepper just smiles at him. 

"I'm fine, thanks."  
  
"Oh. Uh. Okay." Peter just stands there, hands still tangling in his backpack, until his mouth gets away from him and he blurts out, "Um. Not that - I mean, you're uh, it's nice to um, see - but what are you, um, doing here?" 

Shit. That was probably rude. Pepper's smile quirks a little wider, and she doesn't seem mad, but still. You probably shouldn't ask people whose husbands you saw die what they're doing in your house.   
  
"I - I didn't mean it like that, I just meant - "  
  
"I know," Pepper says quickly, shooting him a smile. "It's fine. I'm - I'm not here to tell you you won a grant, if that's what you're asking."

It's probably meant to be nice. Or a joke, probably, it's meant to be something they can share, some - but it makes Peter flinch, makes his fingers clench. It doesn't hurt, it's just words, she's not trying to hurt him. But her smile fades at that, and then Peter feels worse, guilty. He didn't mean to upset her.   
  
"I didn't mean to drop by unannounced," Pepper says. "I - I just realized it's been a while and thought - someone should check in on you." 

Right. Check in on him. Sure.   
  
"Um - we can - yeah, I'm - I'm fine," Peter stammers. "I - that's nice of you, but I'm. I'm good." 

"Here, why don't we sit and - have a chat," Pepper says, and she grimaces. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to invite you to sit in your own home." 

"No, no, that's - you can sit, um, wherever, that's - yeah." Peter says. He looks around the living area - the easy chair in front of the TV that's Max's domain, the empty gap where the sofa used to be, the breakfast bar with two wobbly stools. The last thing he wants is for Max to walk in on Peter talking about Spider-man with Pepper Stark. Potts. Whatever. One of the rules Max had laid out was no girls in his room, but Pepper can't count as a girl, right?   
  
"Um - we can talk in here," Peter says, and he leads her into the cramped little office, the back of his neck a little flushed. It looks twenty times worse showing it to someone else, someone who lives in a real house with specialized AI's and glass panels all over and a private lake. But Pepper just sits, gracefully, and looks at him expectantly.   
  
"Sit," she says again, and then she grimaces again and clonks herself on the forehead with one hand. "Did it again. I shouldn't tell you where to sit on your own couch."

"On my own bed even," Peter mumbles, his own pathetic try at a joke, but that's probably weird, what he just said, right? "No, I mean - I mean it's not a bed, it's a couch, it's just - we're still figuring out like, living quarters or - sorry, I didn't - you're not sitting on my bed, you're just sitting where I sleep mostly? Or - wait, that's not what I meant either." 

But Pepper is grinning again at that, and she just scootches over like he's being totally normal instead of a total head case, and Peter sits down mostly in the hopes that it'll help him shut up and stop talking. 

"How are you doing?" Pepper asks, and Peter's not sure what the answer to that is. He's fine. He's alive. He's not hurt. He's got Ned and MJ and a roof over his head and three meals a day (even if they're not quite big enough.) He's fine. He's alive. 

It's more than Mr. Stark has. 

"I'm - yeah, good, great, I'm doing good," Peter says, and he clamps his mouth shut. He won't let himself talk about Mr. Stark to Pepper, or about May. That'd be messed up. She just lost her husband. She's got enough to deal with. And it's not like Peter is hurt, not actually, really hurt, not anything he can't deal with. He's fine. "I mean - a lot of homework to catch up on, but otherwise." A whisper, _Alright, I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that,_ curls around his head. Peter bites his lip, feels his fingers twisting around a loose thread in the knee of his jeans. "How, uh - how are you?"  
  
"I'm doing okay," Pepper says, and even though it's pretty much the same as what Peter said, on her it doesn't sound like she's pretending. Maybe because okay isn't good or great or even fine, maybe because okay just means, 'we're getting through.' Which is something. "Morgan and I - you remember Morgan?" Peter nods, because yeah, of course he does. Little kid in funeral clothes. Four? Five? He remembers being surprised at how much a little girl in ankle socks and Mary Jane's reminded him of Mr. Stark.

"I'm sorry I haven't - that I didn't come sooner. After everything there was - just a lot that needed sorting, and by the time I heard about May -" Peter's throat feels tight and uncomfortable and he knots his fingers in the thread so hard it snaps. "Well. I came when I heard. I think everyone thought I already knew. I'm so sorry, Peter." Peter can't look at her. He hasn't even told her how sorry he is, for Mr. Stark, for - he should say it now, he knows he should, but the words that come so easily and quickly when he doesn't want them to have suddenly dried up. He just nods. Pepper seems to understand.

"I'm glad they were able to find your - um -"   
  
"Max," Peter says. There isn't a word for like non-biological aunt's dad made legal guardian, so he doesn't try to find one. Peter clears his throat. "Yeah, I'm. Uh. Really lucky."

Parker luck. 

"I'm sure it's an adjustment. Moving, back at school, everything. We just moved too. Morgan and I."

Peter doesn't know where this is going anymore, so he just says "Oh?"

"Yes. Stark Industries just re-acquired Avenger's Tower. Stark Tower. We're not sure where we're landing on the name yet. Morgan and I are taking the penthouse. With her starting school soon and me at SI - just seemed easier for us all to be in the same place." There's a moment where Pepper doesn't look okay, a flicker around the eyes, but then it's gone. "We were wondering if you'd like to join us tonight for dinner."

Peter's mouth must be hanging open - he can feel it, feel it forming around words like he can't figure out what he's meant to say to that. Dinner? With them? Where? What? Why? Him?

The only word that bursts past his lips is "Really?" 

Pepper smiles at him then, and one of her hands - weirdly smooth and soft, manicured or whatever - closes over his still fidgeting fingers. "Yeah. Really."   
  
Peter can't look at her all of a sudden. Swallows. Turns away. 

Pepper doesn't try and make him turn back, but her hand squeezes his a little. "Tony - Tony was very fond of you," Pepper says. Her voice doesn't break but it's definitely not as composed as a moment ago, and her hand squeezes a little tighter on his. "He cared a lot about you, Peter." Peter doesn't say anything. He can't. It doesn't hurt. It's just words. He's not hurt. It doesn't matter. "I know he'd - he'd like us all to be able to - take care of each other. In the ways we can." Pepper lets out a little cough, and when she speaks again her voice is steadier, firmer. "And Morgan - Morgan would like to meet you for real. She's - you know, she's heard a lot of stories." 

That makes Peter look back at Pepper - like, is this really happening? Pepper smiles at him encouragingly. "Come have dinner with us, Peter," she says again. "Nothing fancy. Just pizza or Chinese or - or whatever. Morgan's like a garbage disposal, she'll eat anything. She's - she's like Tony, that way." 

Peter's about to answer when the door to the apartment opens. It's not especially loud or anything, it's not a slam, except that Peter's senses makes every door opened by Max feel like a slam, especially now, like something loud busting in and breaking up everything. So he finds himself jumping up from the couch, breaking the hold Pepper has on his hand. 

"Oh, uh - that's Max," Peter says stupidly, and he opens the door to his room.   
  
"Peter? Why haven't you put the dishes away, you -"  
  
"I, um -" Peter says, and suddenly Pepper is behind him, that same hand pressed on his shoulder. 

"Sorry. I probably distracted him."  
  
The sight of this fully adult woman in her business casual that costs more than Max's rent emerging from Peter's fake bedroom makes Max speechless. His eyes narrow but his face stays placid, calm. "I'm sorry. Didn't know Peter had company."

Peter's not used to talking to Max. It makes his tongue feel thick and confused. "Um - um, Max, this is - um, this is Max," he says to Pepper because he doesn't know how to introduce her - as Pepper Potts? Or Stark? As CEO of Stark Industries? As Tony Stark's widow? "He's uh - Aunt May was his, uh, y'know. Um." 

"Daughter," Max says, with a bite to it that Peter's not sure Pepper notices. But Peter does. They never speak about May, haven't since that first train ride. Peter feels himself pulling into himself as Pepper inches past Peter, goes to Max.

"Of course," Pepper says, standing, super polite like Peter said real words instead of whatever inarticulate stammer had just shoved its way through his face. "I'm so sorry for your loss. She was an incredible woman." Max just nods once, sharply. Pepper reaches Max, extends her hand. "I'm Pepper Potts."

Potts. Well, okay. That's good to know.

"Max Reilly," Max says slowly, taking Pepper's hand to shake. His eyes are still, calculating, but the smile on his face is friendly enough. He comes over by Peter, his hand a sudden, heavy weight on his shoulder. It makes Peter flinch a little again - everything is suddenly feeling hypersensitive, that feeling when his senses get dialed to eleven, and he's not sure why. "Sorry - Potts like Stark Industries Potts?"  
  
"That's me," Pepper says smoothly. 

"I'm - sorry, I'm just a little confused," Max says, his hand tightening on Peter's shoulder. It's the most contact Peter's ever had with Max and he's not sure what to make of it. "You're - here for Peter?"  
  
"I had an internship," Peter blurts out. Mostly because he doesn't know what Pepper's going to say - she probably wouldn't out him as Spider-man but who knows what story she'd come up with, and Peter's better at lying when he makes up the story himself. Plus, this story just so happens to be mostly true. (And maybe also he starts talking because Max's hand on his shoulder is suddenly way too much, his senses tingling and spreading out of control, making him feel jumpy and overstimulated, and maybe if he talks Max will let him go sooner, will -) "Um. Before the Blip. I -"  
  
"Peter was my husband's personal intern," Pepper says. "I realized I hadn't checked up on him since - everything happened, and I figured no time like the present."  
  
"You're - checking up on an intern?" Max asks, voice bemused. 

"He and Tony were very close," Pepper says, after which Peter just sort of stops listening. They were? Really? Peter had wanted to be, had hoped they'd get there one day, but he didn't know they were there yet. Is this just a lie to explain to Max what the CEO of a billion dollar company is doing in Peter's room? Or does she mean it? 

"So I was hoping I could take him up to our place for dinner," Pepper is finishing.   
  
"I don't know," Max says slowly, hand still like an iron weight on Peter's shoulder, pulling him back from whatever he'd been thinking about. Through the whole conversation Max's hand has gotten tighter and tighter and Peter thinks, if he weren't Spider-man, Max might be leaving a bruise right now. (But he is Spider-man, so it's not like it really hurts. Not really. But Max doesn't know that.) "Peter's got school tomorrow. He needs to do his homework."  
  
Pepper's too polite to look at Max like he's crazy, but Peter's not. "I - I already did it," Peter says. There's a lot of reasons why going to dinner with Pepper might be a bad idea, but finishing his homework isn't one of them. "On the train."  
  
"Well, great," Pepper says brightly. "I'll make sure he's home before too late."

"I don't like a kid his age being on the subway in the middle of the night," Max says gruffly, and Pepper flashes him a smile that looks a little forced, though Peter's not sure Max can tell. 

"I totally understand. We'll send him in a car." There's a pause and suddenly Pepper is looking at him like she just realized she'd negotiated this whole deal without consulting Peter. "Does that sound all right to you, Peter?"

Peter's not sure what's all right or not. All he's sure of is it's way too much in here all of a sudden, too loud and too bright, and Max's hand on his shoulder is making him jumpy as hell and the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck are standing straight up. All he wants is to not be here, all of a sudden, to be somewhere else, anywhere that might be even a fraction quieter. 

"I - uh, yeah, I mean - sure," Peter says. "I'd uh - like that."

Pepper's smile at him is brilliant and real and makes some knot in Peter's chest unclench. 

"Well. If you're sure, then," Max says, a hint of sourness in his tone. He claps Peter on the back, hard, hard enough that if Max didn't have one shoulder still in a death grip, Peter might fall over. (Well, if Peter were normal, at least. It takes more than that to hurt Spider-man. But Max doesn't know that.) "Careful," Max says with a loud laugh that doesn't sound happy. "He'll eat you out of house and home, this kid. Like a black hole. Right, Peter?"  
  
Peter manages a weak, strangled smile. He doesn't manage to stifle the flinch. May had called him that once, teasing - her little black hole. "Yeah," Peter says, tugging himself out of Max's grasp. "Uh, right." 

"Well, challenge accepted I suppose," Pepper says brightly. "I'll make sure he's home before too late."

"Yeah," Max says, but Peter is already making a beeline to his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders, the barest hint of a sting as it brushes against where Max was holding him. He was telling the truth about the homework, but he never leaves his suit in the apartment with Max. Just in case. "Not too late."

And then Peter and Pepper are gone.

* * *

The car is blissfully quiet and dark when Pepper and Peter step in. It's Happy in the front seat, Happy who just gives him a nod and a 'hey, kid,' which is maybe the nicest Happy's ever been to him. Pepper doesn't say much. He wonders if she's regretting it already, bringing him over. He closes his eyes, takes a few breaths, feels his head start to settle some, the pounding from behind his ears die down, the jumpy, antsy feeling get pulled back in.

"Any preference?" Pepper says after fifteen minutes, when everything is feeling manageable again. Peter's eyes launch open. Pepper's got her phone out and is tapping away at it. It's the latest StarkPhone - way more advanced than his one from five years ago. (Peter tries not to think about what will happen without Mr. Stark working on the next one - don't. It doesn't hurt, it's just a stupid phone.) He thought she'd been working or whatever, but she turns the phone screen to him and sees a list of take out places, all different types. 

"Oh. Um. No thanks, ma'am. Or I mean - I don't know, I'll eat anything. You don't have to - um, I'm good with, you know. Whatever." All of that is true - he really will eat anything, especially lately, as Max gets more and more snippy about food. As if to back him up, his stomach grumbles. Lunch feels like a million years ago, but Peter shoots his stomach a glare. Traitor. 

"You can call me Pepper," Pepper says gently, and she scrolls for a second. "Well, if you'll really eat anything -"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I will. Like almost literally. Like anything food is a for sure yes but like one time my friend Ned dared me to see if I could eat a Lego and that - I mean we were six so that isn't really - but like I did eat it so I guess it's like pretty much literally anything." Peter can't figure out how to stop talking. Either he's some weird silent statue or he's motor mouthing nonsense. He feels a blush creep up onto his cheeks as Pepper laughs. 

"Well, no Legos tonight, I don't think. But I just placed an order for Chinese. Should be waiting when we get there." She grins at him. "Don't worry, I've been around Steve Rogers and Thor often enough - we should have more than enough food for you. You won't have to resort to eating Morgan's Calico Critters."

"Sorry," Peter blurts out. Which makes Pepper frown, which makes Peter feel neurotic again. Maybe rich people don't think about paying for food that much, maybe he's making it weird. Well, he's almost definitely making it weird. It's his curse. Maybe apologizing is weirder. "I mean, about - I know I'm like. Talking a lot." 

"You're fine," Pepper says. "I'm used to it." That hangs in the air between them for a moment, and Pepper clears her throat. "I mean - Morgan's a mile a minute, and she comes by it honest enough." 

She means Mr. Stark. Peter can't talk then, all the words dried up. He just nods. 

They arrive at the building at the same time as the food. Peter offers to carry it, which seems to make Pepper amused, but she lets him. There is a lot of food, but it's nice to have the bags to focus on. All of a sudden he's incredibly nervous, even though this part of the trip should be familiar - the same building, the same elevator, even heading to the same floor as Mr. Stark's private lab. But maybe Peter didn't think through this moment - this moment of standing in the elevator next to Pepper, watching the floors tick up, unsure of what's going to greet him on the other side. 

Pepper's hand is on his back all of a sudden, but it doesn't feel overstimulating like earlier, with Max. Her hand feels cool and Peter wonders if he's sweating. Is the idea of eating dinner with a five year old making him break out in a sweat?

"She's a little excited," Pepper says softly. "I'm sorry if she's - a little much." From the tone of her voice, Pepper isn't really sorry about that, an almost visible glow in her voice when she talks about Morgan. "The babysitter said he'd tire her out, but I think it's more likely she'll tire him out." 

Before Peter can ask anymore, the doors to the elevator open to the sounds of shrieking.

* * *

The shrieking is Morgan Stark, gleefully hanging off of one mighty green arm as the Hulk tries to shake her off. Not the Hulk-Hulk. Smart Hulk. Banner-Hulk? One of his arms is still splinted up against one side of his body, but the other arm has Morgan clinging to it like a limpet, screaming as Banner-Hulk tries to wave her off. 

"Mommy!" Morgan says joyfully, and she's letting go of Hulk's arm on her own. It seems like Banner wasn't necessarily ready for that, because it means that when Morgan lets go she goes freaking flying through the air. Peter drops the food as she comes barreling towards him and manages to snag her out of the air right before she slams into the elevator doors. 

"Morgan, you're not meant to let go without warning, I told you, you could get hurt -" Banner starts, but Morgan is suddenly staring at Peter with huge, wide eyes. Peter puts her down quick - she probably wasn't planning on getting grabbed by a stranger. He starts gathering up the bags of Chinese food - nothing's leaking out and all the containers seem closed, so that's good - but gathering stuff off the ground means he's actually right at Morgan's eye level, which means that he finds himself looking right into her little face as she stares at him. 

"Um - hi," Peter mumbles. 

"Hi," Morgan says, slightly breathless. "You're Peter."  
  
"Uh - yeah, yeah, I am," Peter says. 

"I'm Morgan," she says back. She looks at her mother, then back at Peter. 

"Yeah, I - I know that," Peter says. He finishes putting all the stuff back into the bags and looks at Morgan. He sticks out a hand - he feels like kids think it's funny when grown ups shake their hands, even if Peter's not really a grown up. "Nice to um. Officially meet you."

Morgan doesn't giggle - Peter realizes that maybe, as a mini-Stark, people might actually be shaking her hands sometimes, so maybe it doesn't seem as funny. But she takes his hand delicately, carefully, and she shakes it twice. Up down. Up down. 

Then her grip tightens and she's yanking him to his feet. It doesn't hurt - he's Spider-man, and she's a little nugget. But he lets himself get dragged along, slowing only enough for Pepper to pluck the food bags out of his hands. 

"Come on come on!! My room is this way!! Mommy made me clean up so that I could show it to you!!" 

And then they're disappearing into the apartment, Pepper's wry laugh the last thing he hears before disappearing into the bedroom lair of Morgan Stark.

* * *

Morgan's room is surprisingly normal - it's four times as big as Peter's cramped half office, with a better view, but the toys in tubs are familiar from his own childhood, and there's not a miniaturized tech table in the corner or a kid sized Iron Man suit disassembled on the floor, and nothing is exploding, so that all seems pretty normal. She shows him her Calico Critters, their dollhouse, a tangle of wires and metal that she says is a robot, her easel complete with a picture of a fox, her dress up box, her magnatiles, a container of Legos that Ned would wet his pants over, and her bean bag chair before she slows down. Peter hasn't said much - expressed true enthusiasm over the Legos and robot, expressed convincing fake enthusiasm of the doll stuff, but he hasn't had to say anything personal or anything until she turns to him with a very serious look on her face. 

"Would you like to see Daddy?" 

Peter freezes. He's not sure what she's referring to - he remembers, suddenly, at the funeral, hearing Mr. Stark's voice from the other room, Colonel Rhodes coming out in tears, Morgan curled miserably into Pepper's side. Is she - is that - He's not sure he'll be able to watch it. He's not sure what she's asking him, or why. But he's not going to say no to the kid, either. So he just nods, weakly, and he lets out a shaky sigh of relief as the girl just tugs him over to the bookshelf and points proudly to the cluster of picture frames along the top. 

It's Mr. Stark but it isn't. Or rather, it's Mr. Stark as Peter's not sure he's ever seen him. A picture of Pepper, looking mussed and exhausted but face split in a smile, cradling a little bundle that's probably Morgan, Mr. Stark perched at her side not looking at the camera, just looking at the baby, at Pepper, a look of such immense pride on his face. Morgan and Mr. Stark in his lab, eyes fixed on a tiny clump of wires. Morgan in a huge pink motorcycle helmet, strapped to Mr. Stark's chest as he straddles a bike. Pepper blowing out birthday candles on a badly misshapen cake, Morgan at her side, halfway through a delighted clap, Mr. Stark behind her, hand on her shoulder. A shot of Mr. Stark in his Iron Man suit but without the helmet, Morgan perched on his shoulder with the helmet on her head, hand outstretched like she's using a fake repulser. Another of Iron Man, sans helmet, surrounded by the Avengers with a metric ton of take out food. Captain America right next to him, mid bite, Natasha Romanoff rolling her eyes and flicking something at Hawkeye across the way. 

They all look so happy. It doesn't hurt to see them like that. It doesn't.

Peter's startled to find, sandwiched between a picture of Morgan running through a sprinkler and the one of Morgan and Iron Man together, there's a picture of Peter. Not just of Peter - of him and Mr. Stark together. They're both of them doing bunny ears in front of Stark Industries, Peter gripping an upside down certificate Mr. Stark'd mocked up as proof of his internship. Peter finds himself reaching for it almost without his own permission. He doesn't even really remember it being taken. It feels like a lifetime ago and in that moment he feels every second of those five years the Blip took stretching between the him he is now and the him in the picture. 

"I like that one," Morgan pipes up from near his elbow. She's leaning against him, suddenly, a warm, solid weight, and she puts her finger on the glass of the picture, pointing. "Daddy used to do bunny ears to me a lot too."

"Yeah," Peter says, a smile creeping over his face. A real one. "I bet."  
  
"And I like it because it's a picture of Daddy _and_ it's Daddy's picture," Morgan says. "Because it belonged to him first and then -" Her lip trembles, suddenly, her whole face going sad and wobbly. "Mommy said I could have it," she finishes, suddenly quieter. Her fingernail traces over the glass of the frame again, over her dad's face. 

Peter's not sure what there is to unpack in that - Mr. Stark had this picture around when Peter was gone? Framed, not just on his phone or on a computer somewhere? - but the information gets filed away for later. Because now there's a kid leaned against his arm, her free hand curling around it, a sad little weight, and that's way more pressing.   
  
"It's a cool picture," Peter says, and then he's sort of at a loss. Because what do you say to a kid this little when their dad dies? He was even younger when his dad died - barely more than a baby, really. Probably no one ever said anything to him. And after Uncle Ben - well - he was older. When people try and talk to him about May now his heart starts pounding, he practically freezes with fear over what they might say, what the words might unlock, what dam they could open up. He doesn't want to make Morgan feel like that. He's terrified, suddenly, that he's going to mess this up. He shifts his arm slightly but Morgan doesn't let go of it, clinging to him. So he settles for patting her knee with his hand. "I mean - it's probably the coolest picture you have here, um. Cause I'm in it." It sounds forced and weird coming out of his mouth and he regrets it immediately, except Morgan lets out a tiny huff of breath that could be laughter. Yeah. It was kind of a Mr. Stark joke. 

"I mean - the only cooler one is maybe, _maybe_ this one," Peter says, pointing to the one where Morgan and Mr. Stark are on the motorcycle. "But like only because you're giving your dad a ride on your motorcycle, and I've never been on a motorcycle." 

Morgan giggles at him. "No, silly, Daddy's giving _me_ a ride on _his_ motorcycle. I can't drive a motorcycle by myself, I'm only five!"

"What, really? Are you sure? Nah, that looks like it's all you. Wow, that's really impressive, I definitely didn't know how to ride a motorcycle when I was five."

"Noooo," Morgan giggles, leaning on his arm again with a weirdly happy wriggle. "It's Daddy's motorcycle! Promise!" 

"I dunno," Peter says, and that's when he notices Pepper standing at the doorway. He freezes suddenly - was this weird? Was he being weird with Morgan, talking about Mr. Stark when he's the reason Mr. Stark is gone? He wants to stand up but Morgan is still manhandling his arm, so instead he just goes still. Morgan cranes her neck to see what Peter's looking at. 

"Hi Mommy," Morgan says, and Pepper smiles at her. Like how Aunt May smiles at him, or at Benjy. 

"Hey Morg-borg. You're not hurting Peter, are you?"   
  
"No!" Morgan says, jumping to standing immediately, putting distance between herself and Peter's arm. And even though a second ago he was trying to figure out how to get free, his arm also feels weirdly light without Morgan Stark's weight pushed up against it. 

"Nah, I'm fine, ma'am. Takes a lot more than that to hurt me." He hesitates - does Morgan know he's Spider-man? Should she know? - but Pepper just grins at him as Morgan bounces over to her mother. 

"You want to show Peter where he can wash his hands? Dinner's all ready."

"Yeah! Come on come on, we can use my bathroom, my soap has a skirt so it looks like Cinderella -" Morgan's pulling him towards the bathroom and Peter just lets himself be pulled. 

It's kind of a nice feeling. 

* * *

Pepper wasn't kidding. There's enough Chinese food for Pepper, Morgan, Peter, plus Thor, the Hulk, and Steve Rogers, all spread out on a dining table bigger than Peter's old bed. At first Peter wonders if Happy is going to join them, or Dr. Banner, but the other men seem to be gone. It's just the three of them. Morgan looks delighted at the array and immediately starts going up and down the line pointing out what she wants, Pepper doling out spoonfuls with the occasional reprimand of 'More fried rice what?' and Morgan's rote response of 'Please more fried rice!' 

Peter feels embarrassed as Pepper hands him a plate, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "You um - you didn't have to get so much," he mumbles. This is probably weird again, but that's so much food. Like an actual feast worth of food. Max never orders in food anymore - says the vouchers don't cover take out and he's not going to shell out for a meal for five when it's just the two of them. This is easily food for ten and Peter doesn't have any money and - 

Pepper gives him a slightly puzzled look. "I know," she says. "But it'll get eaten. Don't worry about it."

Yeah. Starks (and Potts's?) probably never have to worry about that. But Peter is hungry, his stomach gurgling with the smell of sweet and sour pork and fried rice and scallion pancakes. So he loads up his plate, higher with food than he probably should, Morgan looking on with wide eyes as he sits down and starts to dig in. 

"You can have seconds when you finish firsts," Pepper says as Morgan looks from Peter's plate to her mother, a pleading look on her face. "Peter's a lot bigger than you."

It feels like it should hurt, sitting her at a table with Pepper and Morgan and no Mr. Stark. It doesn't feel bed, though. Maybe lopsided is the way to put it - like Mr. Stark should be there, talking about the changes he's making to the Mark XCVII or something, mouth full and hands gesticulating. It feels quiet.

It doesn't stay quiet, as Pepper starts to gently ask him questions. 

"Are you still at Midtown for school?"

Peter, mouth full of food, just nods frantically, groping for his water glass. Morgan is chasing some peas around her plate with her fork as he swallows enough to croak out, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's - Ned and MJ, my friends, they're there too, and - the school's been really good about like, my scholarship and stuff, so - and I mean Ned and MJ got Snapped too, which is cool - or not cool, definitely not cool, for sure not - I just meant it's cool that we're all together still, it's good? Not good that we - but - yeah," Peter babbles, and stuffs a forkful of General Tso's chicken into his mouth to shut himself up. 

But Pepper just nods and smiles. "It's good to have friends around," she says, and she looks at Morgan. "Morgan's going to start school in the fall, right, bub?" 

Morgan nods, a smear of sauce on her chin. "Mm-hm," she says. She doesn't seem thrilled about it.

"Cool - college?" Peter asks, and Morgan immediately shakes her head, a smile creeping on her lips. 

"No! Kindergarten!" 

"Kindergarten college?! Woah, cool," Peter says. "I just did like regular kindergarten." Pepper is wiping her own mouth with her napkin, which doesn't entirely hide her grin. 

"No, regular kindergarten!! Kindergarten isn't college! College is for grown ups!"

"Oh, yeah, that - that makes more sense. I wasn't gonna say anything but you might be a little short for college. For like the desks and stuff." 

Morgan rolls her eyes at that, a weird look on a five year old. She stabs a piece of chicken on her fork and brings it up to her mouth, looking weirdly like Pepper trying to hide her grin. 

The conversation continues like that - Pepper'll ask a question about school, or Ned and MJ, or books he's reading or projects he's working on, carefully steering around anything about Aunt May or Spider-man, and Peter'll blather like an idiot until Pepper takes pity on him and turns to Morgan, and then Morgan takes the heat off Peter for a while. It's sort of nice, sitting at the table with everyone talking. At Max's, dinner talk is exclusively reserved for whether Peter's done his chores and does Peter really need another helping. That's assuming Max and peter even eat together - most nights they don't, Max out doing whatever or Peter home late from decathlon. Peter doesn't mind, really. It's easier to eat without Max watching every bite Peter puts into his mouth like he's tallying up how much it'll cost. 

Morgan gets second helpings and Peter gets fourths and at the end of the night Morgan snaps open everyone's fortune cookie and reads their fortunes to them. At first Peter is surprised - he's not sure he could read when he started kindergarten, though he'd definitely gotten there before the end of the year. But Morgan's reading is still slow and sounding out letters, and halfway through each fortune she'll stop reading and Pepper will have to encourage her. Still though, Peter watches her raptly, like it's magic. This kid that wasn't even a clump of cells when he got snapped can read now. Crazy.

It's weirdly homey and comfortable and Peter's a little bummed when Pepper says "All right, bub, time to get ready for bed. Why don't you go wash up and pick out your pajamas - I'm just going to have a quick word with Peter."  
  
Morgan pouts, and Pepper adds "You can see him again once your pjs are on. Promise." And with that, Morgan somehow gets peeled away from the table, sent back to her bathroom with her princess soap. 

Peter's suddenly nervous again, alone with Pepper. "Thanks," he blurts out immediately, and Pepper looks at him.   
  
"What for?" she asks, and Peter realizes he's not really sure. For the food? (Don't be weird.) For letting him talk to Morgan, for not being mad at him? (They should be so mad at him. They should be -) For letting him sit at the table and talk to him like he was a person? For - 

"Just - thanks," Peter mumbles, and Pepper seems to know what he's saying. 

"Peter - any time. Really," she says. She looks at him, really looks, and Peter is reminded that just because she's been acting like Morgan's mom since they got to the apartment, she's still smart and observant and all the stuff you'd need to be to be CEO of a huge business, plus be married to Tony Stark. (Except she's not married to him anymore.) "Are you - happy with your living arrangement? If it'd be easier for you to live somewhere else, if that'd be more compatible with your Spider-man activities, I'm sure we could figure something out. The new compound, or -"  
  
Peter realizes it's the first time she's mentioned Spider-man all evening, Like she wanted him there as Peter Parker, not as Spider-man. He's not sure what to do with that information. 

"No, uh - I'm okay. I mean, Max doesn't - know about Spider-man, but he's - it's fine," Peter says. "I - it's fine." 

Pepper nods, slowly. "If - when I say any time, Peter, I mean it. All right? You're welcome here whenever you'd like."   
  
Whenever? To do what? He's not going to work on suits with Tony in the lab or goof around with DUM-E and the other robots or try and push the limits of FRIDAY's AI. It's not like he has a real internship or anything. It's not like there's any reason to be here except Pepper feels sorry for him. And she shouldn't. He's the one who should be sorry. He's - 

Pepper is standing up now, has gone back over to a fancy desk in the corner. Pulls a box from the top of it and comes back to the table. Slides it across to him. 

"Here," she says quietly. "Tony wanted you to have these." 

Peter's stomach is simultaneously filled with butterflies and dread. Presents from Tony were always awesome - mostly Spider-man related, except for the time he got a new StarkPhone. It was like Christmas, unwrapping them and seeing what insanely cool thing was inside. But now, no matter how awesome it is, Peter just feels heavy as his fingers brush over the box, hardly big enough for more than a webshooter or a pair of goggles. This is the last present. This is it, whatever it is. Once he opens it, it'll be done. 

And Mr. Stark couldn't have known 

"I promised Tony," Pepper says as Peter runs his fingers over the box, which is definitely a glasses case, on closer inspection. "That we were gonna be okay." Peter's fingers clench over the box at that. Over the memory. ( _We won, Mr. Stark. You did it, sir, you did it. I'm sorry...Tony..._ ) 

"That meant me and Morgan," Pepper says. "But that meant you too."   
  
Peter's head shoots up at that. "He - you don't have to do that," Peter says. "I'm - I'm fine. I'm - I'm fine, really, Ms. Potts, I'm -"  
  
"Call me Pepper," she says, firmly. 

"I'm sorry," Peter says, and he tries to shove the glasses box back at her. Because doesn't she get it? The reason Tony isn't here to make everything okay himself is because of _Peter_. He never would have gotten involved if Peter hadn't gotten Snapped. He'd be up at the lake with Morgan, working on his motorcycle or baking birthday cakes or - doing anything, being alive. If Peter had been on Earth instead of on Titan, maybe Aunt May wouldn't have gotten killed. If he'd been better on Titan in the first place, stronger or faster or older, maybe Thanos would never have gotten a Snap off to begin with. This is all Peter's fault so he doesn't deserve this present, this dinner, to hang out with Morgan. He doesn't deserve to go live at the compound, act like a real Avenger, when he's just some stupid kid swinging around stopping bike thieves and letting everyone he loves die, he doesn't deserve anything and Pepper and everyone deserve better than him. He tries to push the box back at her but she shoves it back at him with one crisp, sharp movement, a surprising amount of force behind her hand. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Pepper says. "Those belongs to you. Tony wanted you to have them. And he wanted you to be okay." Pepper blinks, suddenly, a little crack down the center of her. "He wanted all of us to be okay. So that's our job now, all right? We have to figure out how to be okay. That's our responsibility." 

_Someone's got to watch out for the little guy,_ a voice whispers around his head, and Peter can't help it any longer. It hurts, it all _hurts_ , and he just wants Aunt May to come get him, he wants Mr. Stark to touch the back of his neck and say he's done good, he just wants this all to be over but it's never going to be over because this is real, this is really happening, this is real life and suddenly he's feeling it, he's feeling everything, and suddenly he's curled over the stupid glasses case in Mr. Stark's penthouse crying, full on sobbing, face in his hands.

"Peter - sweetheart, hey, it's okay, it's okay, let it out," Pepper is murmuring, which like good luck getting him to stop at this point. It's months and months streaming out of him, hiccups and sobs and everytime he's close to tamping it down he feels the glasses case in his hand and he starts again. Pepper's moved over next to him and she's rubbing his back like May used to, like May did after Ben - and that certainly doesn't help Peter calm down any.

"Mommy! I'm done! I even brushed my teeth, you can check my toothbrush - what's wrong with Peter?" Morgan's voice is suddenly worried and there's a patter of feet as Morgan runs towards him. Pepper catches her before she can get too close, though. She doesn't move from Peter's side, but she's got Morgan wrangled somehow so she isn't climbing all over Peter

"He's okay, borg," Pepper says softly, pulling Morgan onto her lap as Morgan squirms and resists, tries to get to Peter. "He's just feeling some feelings, it's all right."   
  
"Does Peter miss Daddy too?"  
  
That's almost too much for him - he'd started to pull it all back in but at that it all threatens to come bursting out again. He only manages not to because he thinks crying freaks kids out, and he doesn't want to freak Morgan out. He wants her to be okay. 

( _We're gonna be okay. You can rest now.)_

"Yeah," Peter mumbles, wiping at his face with his hands, trying to get it together. "Yeah, I - I miss your dad too."   
  
"Me too," Morgan says, her voice suddenly wobbly. She sniffles once, hard, and suddenly she's clambering into Peter's lap. Pepper makes an aborted grab for her, but as Morgan flings her arms around his throat, Peter finds himself holding her back as suddenly she starts crying into his neck, wet snuffles of tears and snot that should probably gross him out more than it is. He even thinks he feels a drop of wetness on the top of his head, like Pepper is crying too. Which should be too much - he shouldn't go from completely bottling up everything to have a cryfest with people who he barely knows, but it doesn't feel wrong.   
  
It doesn't feel right, either. 

It just hurts less. 

Maybe that's all he can expect.


End file.
